Sons Of Libertea
by fihli
Summary: A kid from the West Indies moves to New York City to study law. A pre-law student becomes a barista to pay the bills. A barista fights for his friends, makes his own family, falls in love a little, and gets in way over his head. And there's a million drinks he hasn't made, but just you wait. (Crossposted from A03)
1. That Would Be Nice

**Hi! If you read Hamilton fic over at AO3, you might recognize this story. I'm cross-posting it here, and I'll put a chapter up each day until we're all caught up. I hope you enjoy!**

 **SUMMARY: Alex Hamilton meets Burr, gets a free drink, and maybe more than he bargained for.**

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PART ONE

"Hey, Burr! Aaron Burr!"

Alex skidded to a halt and immediately doubled over, hands on his knees, air coming out of his lungs in heaving breaths. He really needed to utilize the on-campus gym, or at least start jogging. Oh, who was he kidding. He wasn't going to start jogging.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, shit, uh…" Alex stood up, realized he had said that last bit about jogging out loud, and gave the object of his pursuit his best winning grin. "Aaron Burr, sir, my name is Alexander Hamilt-"

"Okay, I'm just going to stop you right there." Burr held out both of his hands in a _whoa_ gesture. "Don't call me _sir_. I'm not your dad. And why the hell are you chasing me around campus?"

"I heard you've been interning at Edwards and Howe for over a year now, which is really impressive for an undergrad, well, I'm an undergrad too, and I actually just applied to Franklin, Greene, and Rall's firm and, well, I guess I was just wondering how you got hired so early? I've been looking into every possible way and I applied as early as I possibly could, so how'd you do it?"

"Edwards. My mother. She put it in her will before she and my father died."

"Your mom was an Edwards? Oh, shit!" Alex ran both hands through his dark hair. Well, there went his brilliant follow-in-Burr's-footsteps idea. Family connections were something that he _didn't_ have. "Well, I'm sorry about your parents. I'm an orphan, too, you know, was shipped up here from the West Indies, to, I don't know, make something of myself? Anyway, I-"

"Alexander," Burr cut in, "ah, Hamilton? Can I buy you a drink?"

Alex stopped in his tracks, hiking his backpack up over his shoulders. "That would be nice."

"There's a place not too far from here, if you're free now."

Alex nodded, following Burr down the street, and then narrowed his eyes at him. "It is like nine in the morning, Aaron, I mean, I'm all for day-drinking, but don't you think-"

"It's a coffee shop, Alexander, good God. Talk less."

"What?"

"Smile more." Burr held open the door to a nondescript, red-brick building, the bell on the doorknob jangling. Alex caught a glimpse of the wooden sign hanging outside, swinging in the breeze. A stylized American flag, weather-worn and with only thirteen stars in the shape of a circle.

Burr's coffee shop was called _Sons Of Libertea_. It was written across the flag in black 18th century script. Alex felt a grin start to creep across his face.

"Aaron, this is _adorable_ -"

And that's when a hefty handful of coffee beans sprayed the wall behind Alex, a few pelting him right in the forehead. Burr sputtered. He must have caught a few in his mouth.

"Burr, you cheap fuck, I thought I told you to never come back here again!"

Another voice came from the back, light and accented. "Language, _petite chienne,_ language!"

"But you-"

"I said it in French, John, no one cares if I swear in French."

"Okay, fine." the coffee bean slinger, presumably named John, let out a longsuffering sigh. "Burr, _toi bon marche putain-_ -"

Alex cackled. He couldn't help himself. Burr shot him a scalding over-the-shoulder glare, and the gutter mouthed French speaker leaned over the counter into Alex's line of vision.

"My God, does Burr have a _friend_?"

Alex's first impression of John French-mouth What's-His-Name was that he had no idea there were that many freckles in the entire universe. They scattered over the bridge of his nose, over his cheeks, down his neck, and they were even all over the part of his left arm that Alex could see slung over the bar.

"We're not friends. This is Alexander." Burr dodged the line and walked right up to the bar, and Alex followed in his wake. The people they skipped complained, but Burr paid them no mind. Alex figured that was a perk of being a regular.

Someone else peeked out of the back room, a very large someone, with an apron tied around his broad chest and a green beanie covering his head. "Back of the _line_ , Burr!"

Well, nevermind.

Burr grumbled something under his breath and went to go stand in line again, and Freckleface John grabbed Alex's arm across the counter.

"Hey, hey, you can stay up here. What was your name?"

"Hamilton," he said, and slid into one of the seats attached to the bar. "Alex Hamilton."

"Well, Alex Hamilton, any non-friend of Burr is a friend of mine." He took the order of some old guy in a pressed suit - _medium latte in a large cup, 106 degrees, five shots of espresso, a packet of Splenda, some other bullshit-_ \- and turned back to Alex, making the drink and not breaking eye contact. "I'm John Laurens. Libertea's star barista. You're welcome."

He slid the drink over the counter, the man muttered something about how he paid for fast service, not watching the employees flirt, until John winked at him. He left immediately, red-faced and flustered.

Alex watched as John worked his steady way through the line of customers, sometimes being charming - _oh, Mrs. Ross, your art show's next week, right? I'll be sure to swing by-_ \- sometimes being surprisingly, scaldingly rude - _Seabury, I told you, if you order a venti macchiato one more damn fucking time, this is not fucking_ Starbucks _, you dumb shit_ \- and finally getting to Burr.

"So, where'd you find this one, Aaron?" John asked, tucking a few curls back into his hairnet and flicking another coffee bean at Burr's head. "He's not even wearing a suit. I thought suits were your type."

"He tracked me down," Burr said, accepting the cup John slid across the counter. He hadn't even ordered, Alex noticed, and there was a poop emoji drawn on the cup in Sharpie. "He has a million questions about my internship."

"Oh, wonderful, another lawyer. And here I thought you were cool, Alex." John turned to him, the biggest, saddest puppy-dog eyes present and accounted for, as well as a pouting bottom lip. "I thought. You were. Cool."

"I _am_ cool."

"Alright." And with that, John started staring at him, intently, his deep brown eyes meeting Alex's gaze with extreme intensity. A curl had escaped his hairnet and was resting on his forehead, right along a particularly dense splatter of freckles. "Hmm."

"Uh, Burr, what is he doing?" Alex asked, glancing to the side only to find that Burr was gone, halfway across the coffee shop, sitting with his back to Alex, the _Times_ open in his lap. He turned back to John, who had started squinting.

"Oh, he's giving you the special." The guy from earlier, the one with the beanie who'd yelled at Burr, ducked out of the back. Alex frowned, still keeping John's gaze.

"Well that sounds dirty."

"Nah, it's just a dumb thing he does. Pretends to stare into your soul and then makes a drink you're guaranteed to love. Works on guys, girls-"

"Everyone except Burr," John said, still staring, "because he doesn't have a soul."

"Laurens…" Burr's warning voice floated over the general babble of the coffeeshop, and John winked.

"Okay, I got it. Herc, distract him while I prepare to blow him away."

"Fine." The big guy, Herc, took John's place sitting in front of Alex. For the first time, Alex noticed that his apron was covered in a tapestry of thread, sewn in colorful swirls and patterns. It was so tastefully worked into the apron's original design (a colonial flag, of course), that it was indiscernible from a distance. A needle (looped around with blue thread) poked through the fabric just above his nametag, which read _Hercules_.

"That's a name," Alex commented without thinking, realizing only a second after he said it that this guy could probably break him in half if he wanted to. "Hey man, I-"

"Hercules Mulligan," Herc interrupted with a slight bow, more of a flourish, really. "At your service. I specialize in mixing tea, lifting heavy things, and fixing rips in shirts, pants, and everything in between."

"So that's all you?" Alex asked, gesturing at the needlework on his apron. He nodded proudly.

"Lee hates it, so of course I gotta keep doing it. I'm going to do Laf's next, or maybe John's." He leaned back. "Hey, _John_ , you want me to do your apron next, or-"

The door to the kitchen slammed open and another person stormed out, his dark hair pulled back into a fluffy ponytail and a supremely indignant expression on his face.

"Hercules Mulligan, you told me _three weeks ago_ that as soon as you were finished with yours, we would-" He took a breath and extended a hand to Alex. " _Bonsoir_ , welcome to Libertea, my name is Gilbert du Motier, nice to meet you-"

He turned to face Hercules again.

"-swap and you would do mine, I have been waiting for _months_ -"

Herc looked over at Alex and waggled his eyebrows.

"I'm in high demand. Also, I know his nametag says Gil, but we all call him Lafayette. He does food, I do tea, John does coffee."

The other guy, the French one -Alex couldn't help wondering what was up with these names, there were completely normal names like John, and then came a _Hercules_ and a _Gilbert, Lafayette, whatever_ \- punched Hercules in the arm.

"Do not pick John over me, you slimy little-"

The rest of his insult was lost as John emerged from wherever he'd disappeared to, drink in hand, smile on face. He slid it across the counter.

"First one's on the house, Libertea policy."

"That's not our policy," Herc said.

"It is when Lee's not around," John replied, nudging the drink closer to Alex. "C'mon. Try it. Try it."

Alex did just that, picking it up ( _okay, so it's an iced drink. Iced drinks in the middle of fall. I can deal with that, fine_ ), taking a sip ( _this is freezing,why did John think this was a good idea_ ), and falling straight on his ass in love _(there is sugar in this and chocolate in this and coffee in this, holy fucking-_ -).

"-shit!" he said, going back in for another long sip. Brainfreeze. Another long sip. More brainfreeze. "This is the best fucking thing I've ever had in my entire life!"

John elbowed Lafayette. "Eight for eight."

Before Alex could ask who else John had created drinks for, the front door opened, bell jangling wildly. Hercules whipped off his beanie and shoved it into his back pocket.

"Morning, sir," John said, adjusting his hairnet, grabbing a rag from out of thin air, and wiping the counter down with it.

A tall, imposing bald man in a long woolen coat took a seat at the bar right next to Alex. John was sliding him a drink within seconds, and Alex noted that the cup was bare except for one Sharpie-d star in the corner.

"Good morning," the man said after taking one, two, three sips of his coffee. "And thank you, Mr. Laurens. Impeccable, as usual."

"Anything for the boss," John said, saluting with his rag. "You here for the day? Or-"

"I have an eleven o'clock," the man, their boss, said, taking another long drink. "Lee should be in around noon. I trust that our marquis will keep a tight ship until then?"

He gave a pointed glance to Lafayette, who nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes sir, Mr. Washington. I'll keep John under control. You know, earlier this morning-"

John threw his rag and it hit Lafayette straight in the mouth. After witnessing a long session of sputtering and swearing in French, Washington chuckled and stood up.

"Behave yourselves. I'll be back soon enough, mid-afternoon at the latest."

He threw his cup into the kitchen window, and there was the unmistakable sound of a garbage bag rustling. He grinned at Alex.

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Uh, it's Alex," he said, taking Washington's hand and shaking it. "Alex Hamilton."

"Well, Mr. Hamilton, thank you for choosing Libertea today. I hope to see you around."

"Wait, sir," John said, and Washington turned back. "Remember what you said when you fired Arnold a few weeks ago?"

"I say a lot of things, John," Washington replied with the well-concealed patience of a dad. Or a particularly resigned coffee shop owner. "What did I say about Arnold?"

"You said, and I quote, _the next person we hire needs to be a lawyer or some shit, because I'm tired of dealing with these crooks myself_ , end quote."

"That does sound like me."

"Well," John said, gesturing at Alex's entire being, "I found him! Our new lawyer! Lawyer slash barista slash French speaker, suck it Mulligan."

"Hey," Herc said, but Washington had approached the counter again, and was looking Alex straight in the eye. It was a weird sort of look, it made him want to run and finish his degree that very second, it made him want to write his dissertation about the effects of freedom and liberty on mankind, it honestly made him want to fight someone. It was exhilarating.

"Are you looking for a job, son?"

"Not really," Alex said, and then revised. "Um, well, yes, but I was looking for something more in the, ah, legal department…"

"And how are you paying for your tuition?"

 _Damn, this guy cuts straight to the heart._

"Okay, fine, I need a job, well, yesterday. But you really want me to work here? I didn't even have an interview. I don't know anything about coffee except that it smells good and keeps me awake."

"That's really all you need to know," John mumbled.

"You're bright, energetic, and, if you want it, I think you're the man for the job." Washington held out his hand again, and this time, Alex didn't hesitate. Intrinsically aware of Burr watching him from across the room and John grinning to his right, Alex grasped Washington's hand and pumped it up and down.

"When do I start?"

Hercules threw him an apron. "Get back here and I'll show you the ropes before Lee shows up."

Washington smiled at him, and something about that made Alex so inexplicably happy that he would have agreed to anything right there on the spot, just to make this man he'd just met proud of him.

 _Wow, Alex, this is your inner self. Tone down the daddy issues._

"Boom," his new boss said, and clapped him on the shoulder. Alex just about died, inner self be damned. "Welcome aboard."

His hand landed on Alex's shoulder two more times, he pointed a _you'd better have everything under control_ finger at Lafayette, and was gone, the door's string of bells jangling in his wake. Burr replaced him in an instant, sliding onto the stool next to Alex.

"So, what was all that about?" he asked, exuding a thick layer of _I don't really care_ overtop a core of _tell me right now._ "What did Washington want?"

"He gave Alex a job," John said, jumping up to sit on the counter. "Because… Of… Me..."

"Yeah, thanks for that, man!" Alex used the stool as leverage to get onto the counter beside John. He looped the apron strings around his waist and tied them in front like he'd seen Hercules do earlier. "Just met you today and I already owe you one."

"More like two," John said, "the drink. Three, I threw those coffee beans at Burr. Four-"

"Enough," Burr said. "Alexander, you took the job? What about your internship?"

"I can still apply for my internships, Burr, I'll just multitask. School, work, internships. Easy-peasy. I'm Alexander Hamilton, bitch!"

He leapt down, into the opposite side of the coffeeshop, high-fived John, accepted a hairnet from Lafayette, and ignored the fact that Burr was glaring at him from the other side of the counter.

"Okay, let's start with espresso," John said, guiding him over to the machine. "Be careful when you're making shots, because even if you screw up, you're not allowed to put anything in the garbage. You gotta drink it. Company policy, here at Libertea, we do _not_ throw away our shots…"

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 **Next chapter: Alex starts his new job, gets to know his new coworkers, and hates his new manager.**

 **Thanks for reading! Reviews are immensely appreciated if you like and/or want more coffeeshop shenanigans, and you can always find me as fihli on tumblr as well!**

 **-Gab**


	2. Ah, So You've Discussed Me

**SUMMARY: Lafayette's cake pops are delicious, Charles Lee is the worst manager ever, and Burr's reliable with the ladies (kind of).**

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It had been a week, and Alex was pretty sure he was getting the hang of this whole coffee shop thing. The three fires and one flood he'd caused begged to differ, but hey. Everyone had to start somewhere.

He had his routine down pat. Apron, hair net (he tried wearing a baseball cap one day, but hats left weird dents in his hair), man the counter with John, help Herc unload the delivery truck, try and fix the sink in the employee bathroom, give up and rig something with duct tape that (if they were lucky) would last the rest of the day, avoid Lee, try to convince Lafayette to let him help with the pastries, steal pastries for him and John, back to the counter until closing. It was a good job. Coworkers, customers, product. Nothing worth complaining about.

Okay, he had a _few_ things to complain about.

Their manager when Washington wasn't around was a guy named Charles Lee. John called him 'Chuck', but on Alex's first day, Herc had advised him against using that particular nickname. Lee was consistently in a bad mood, consistently mean to everyone on or around Libertea property, and consistently whining about the way Washington ran his business.

"I'm going to fight him," John grumbled one morning as he cleaned the espresso machine and Alex was stocking the soy milk in one of the mini fridges. "I'm just going to go for it. Challenge him to a duel. To the fucking _death_."

"What did he do this time?" Alex asked, peeking through the window into the kitchen. Lafayette was elbow-deep in flour and Lee was red-faced, yelling something at him as he glared into his scone dough. "And I think you might have to get in line for that duel thing. Laf looks like he's about to slit his throat."

" _Lafayette_ should be manager," John said, smacking the espresso machine with the end of his wet rag. "I'm surprised he's not, Washington's basically his dad, anyway, -he named his fucking _cat_ after him, for fuck's sake- and he'd do a lot better than Chuck _I-Hate-Working-Here-And-Coffee-And-Washington_ Lee. I wonder how many times you're allowed to badmouth the boss before you get fired."

"Hopefully the answer is however many time's Lee's done it," Alex replied. "What was his thing yesterday? Washington cannot be left alone to his devices-"

"His leadership is indecisive, this place goes from crisis to crisis-"

"The best thing he can do for Libertea is sell it and hope it turns a profit, which it won't, this place is a _dump_!" They both finished, laughing. John hit Alex with his rag.

"He was on that tangent for a full, I don't know, like forty-five minutes yesterday. If he hates this place so much, why doesn't he go work somewhere else? I hear the fiery pits of Hades are hiring."

"Even the fiery pits of Hades wouldn't hire Lee." Alex snatched the rag out of John's hand and went to work on the counters. They were opening in fifteen minutes, and Lafayette did a spot check every morning while Lee sat in Washington's office.

Right on time, Lafayette burst through the kitchen's double doors, two trays in hand. He passed one to Alex, who threw the rag back at John just in time to accept it. They started setting up the pastry display (scones on the right, muffins and slices of pumpkin, banana, and cinnamon bread on the left, circular tower displays with cookies, cupcakes, and a rotating arrangement of cake pops in the center), while Lafayette grumbled under his breath in heated French about, Alex presumed, Lee.

He decided to test the waters. "Hey, Laf, can I have a cake pop?"

They weren't allowed to touch the cake pops. They weren't allowed to _look_ at the cake pops. Lafayette's rule dated back to pre-Alex days at Libertea, and he still wasn't sure of the exact reason for it.

"Take whatever you want, Alexander, _mon Dieu_ , as long as you take the stick when you're finished and shove it so far up Lee's-"

"Mr. Washington!" John interrupted loudly, right before the bells on the door jangled, signaling someone's entrance into the shop. Lafayette's mouth snapped shut, and John draped his wet rag over Alex's head. "You're not supposed to be here until later today."

"Good morning, Mr. Laurens." Washington accepted the cup John slid to him. "And coffee waits for no man. Mr. Hamilton, Marquis."

He looked over his shoulder at Herc, who was across the store, lifting down the metal barrels full of tea to fill the smaller glass display jars. "Good morning, Mr. Mulligan."

"Morning, commander," Herc managed to grunt, hoisting one of the barrels onto his shoulder. Tea-wrangling was one of his more impressive jobs at Libertea, and he'd once told Alex that he was benching three fifty at the gym down the road, while at the exact same time Alex was struggling to lift a twenty-five pound bag of flour. He also gave John a lot of impromptu piggyback rides.

"Where's Lee?" Washington asked, after taking a long sip of his coffee. There were three stars drawn on his cup today, which Alex had learned was John's code for number of pumps of espresso.

John knew all of their regulars' regular drink orders by heart, along with their corresponding Sharpie doodles. Washington's black coffee with espresso (alternating number of pumps depending on the time of day) got stars. Lafayette's soy latte got either a French flag (at least, Alex assumed it was French; John really needed to invest in some different colored markers), or a vaguely penis-shaped baguette, depending on John's perspective on Lafayette that day. Herc's tea got a kettlebell, usually with the word " _Winner!_ " scrawled on it, Burr's Americano got the signature poop emoji, and Lee, as a mark of John's utmost distaste, got nothing.

Alex hadn't figured out his own special way of differentiating orders yet. He usually just asked for the first name and hastily scribbled it onto the cup. Sometimes John added his doodles anyway, but he didn't mind. It was helping him get to know their customers.

Alex's doodle changed every time he got a drink from John, like his coworker hadn't quite figured him out yet. Once, after he brought his dilapidated old laptop into work to sneak some writing time for class, he got an old-timey quill dripping onto an ink splotch. The next day he got an eye, complete with lashes and laughter lines and everything. The most recent was also the most intricate, the sun, resplendent even in black and white Sharpie on a paper coffee cup. Clouds covered the bottom half, and Alex had to ask.

 _"John, is this meant to be rising or setting?"_

 _"I don't know, old man Ham, you pick."_

Alex found out later that day that John was actually a few months older than he was. Luckily, the nickname _Old Man Ham_ didn't stick.

When John made drinks for himself, he drew turtles on his own cup. If anyone were to look in any trash can in Libertea, there would without a doubt be a paper cup with an American soft-shell turtle drawn on it. The turtles kind of looked like they were steamrolled, which John insisted was what they actually looked like in real life.

To quote Hercules Mulligan: _"You just keep your weird-ass flat turtles off my cup, Laurens."_

Alex watched Washington take another long sip.

"I asked, where's Lee?"

Lafayette straightened a few of the cookies on the tower. "Um. I think he's in your office. Sir."

Washington's eyebrows furrowed. "And why would he be there?"

Without waiting for any of his employees to answer, he turned and walked around the counter and into the kitchen, presumably to the back staircase that led to his upstairs office. Lafayette slammed the glass display case door, making a few of the previously-straightened cookies wobble.

" _Merde_ , Lee is going to _get it_!"

"He is _fucked_ ," Herc agreed, coming over and setting up his tea canisters along the back of the counter. "We've been trying to get Washington to catch him in the act for _months_."

"What is he doing?" Alex asked, leaping up to sit on the counter to get a better view of Herc as he started to mix and match teas in little patterned paper bags.

"Who the hell knows?" Laurens asked, grabbing a plastic cold-drink cup and squeezing a few lines of chocolate sauce on the inside. Alex immediately perked up. That was his drink that John was starting; _Libertea's badass answer to Starbucks's punk-ass mocha-chip Frappuccino,_ in John's own words. "Something stupid, probably, Playing Angry Birds. Not being a manager."

"Dude, Angry Birds was old news like a year ago," Herc said.

"Didn't say Lee was pop-culture savvy, Mull, just that he was an idiot."

"Fair enough."

"And you." Herc pointed an accusing finger at Lafayette. " _Your_ idiot ass never replaced the milk you used up yesterday and _my_ idiot ass had to eat dry Count Chocula this morning, which sucked a whole lot of idiot ass _in general_."

"I'm sorry," Lafayette said, turning back to the display counter. "I don't speak English."

"Translate for me, John. Tell the marquis that he needs to grocery shop every once in a while, or else I'm going to knit a scarf out of his own hair and _slingshot him back to France with it._ "

John smirked. "Hey, Gil, _il veut votre lait_."

Alex snorted unexpectedly, John smirked harder, if that was even possible, and Lafayette was on the floor within seconds. Hercules crossed his arms.

"You're the worst. And I don't even know which one of you I'm talking to. You're all, equally, _the worst_."

Lafayette had to use the counter to pull himself off of the ground, he was still shaking with laughter. "I'm sorry, _petit bébé_ , I'll pick some up after we close. John and I just really wanted chocolate milkshakes last night."

"At like three in the morning," John amended, sliding Alex the finished drink. He checked the doodle. An emoji. The bomb one. He took a sip.

Herc narrowed his eyes. "Chocolate milkshakes, or _chocolate milkshakes_?"

Lafayette and John winked at the exact same time, and Alex was pretty sure it was rehearsed.

"Fuck, does that mean all my Kahlua's gone, too?"

Lafayette held out his hands in surrender. "I'll get some of that, too. And the milk. And… What else did you eat last night that you weren't supposed to?" This was to John.

"The corn dogs."

Herc made a pained noise.

"I'll get those, too. Don't worry." He patted Herc on the shoulder, and grabbed one of the vanilla cake pops out of the case and held it under his nose. "Cake pop?"

"So you all live together?" Alex asked as Herc snatched the cake pop, ate it in one bite, and threw the stick at Lafayette. John slid over the counter to unlock the door and flipped over the open sign.

"Yep. Up the street a couple of blocks. Live together… Work together… Drive each other up the wall together…"

"The three of us and Washington," Herc added.

"Washington lives with you?" Alex asked, incredulous. Washington was their boss, and he had at least ten years on Herc, who was the oldest of the group. "That's a little weird, right?"

"No, no, _mon ami,_ Georges. My cat." Lafayette handed him a caramel cake pop as the first few customers, people Alex didn't recognize yet, started coming through the door. "He's a tortoiseshell. He hates John."

"He sucks," John confirmed, sliding back over the counter. "He only likes Laf, he only eats that dumb fancy brand of cat food, and I had to take him to the vet like thirteen times."

"Once," Lafayette amended. "One time. And I'll never ask that of you ever again."

"Oh, _Burr_ , yes, thank you God," John yelled suddenly, over the hubbub that was Libertea in the early morning as Aaron Burr pushed his way inside, tweed coat and scowl present. "My favorite person in the entire fucking world. Hop the line, my love, come talk to me!"

"Shut the hell up, Laurens," Burr grumbled, but he took the invite and pushed his way to the front of the line. "You're not talking about your cat again, are you?"

This was to Lafayette, who rolled his eyes and went back into the kitchen. Burr replied with a matching eye roll, and John slid his Americano across the counter, poop emoji present and accounted for.

"Get the hell out!"

Libertea went silent and still. Lafayette poked his head out of the kitchen door.

Washington stormed around the counter, followed by Lee, red-faced and glaring. Washington pointed at the door.

"I'm not going to stand here and watch you shit the bed with my business, Lee! Now get out of my establishment and don't come back until you're serious about putting in some fucking _effort_."

Washington pointed, more forcefully this time, at the door, and Lee flinched before racing for it. People, coffee cups in hand, parted for him like the Red Sea. The door slammed in his wake.

The entire population of the shop turned to look at Washington, who held his arms wide.

"Good morning, everyone. Welcome to Libertea."

John applauded. Everyone else stayed silent.

Washington dropped his arms, grabbed an apron off of the rack near the kitchen door, and went behind the counter to stand next to Alex. The next hour was the quickest hour Alex had ever spent working; the high from watching his boss yell at Lee was incredible, and he and John, with Washington's help, went through customers like it was their job (which, technically, it was). Herc managed to sell six full-sized bags of his mixed tea, and Lafayette's cake pops were gone within the first half hour.

Burr kept his seat at the very end of the bar, nursing his Americano and making comments to John whenever he was sure Washington wasn't listening. Alex wasn't sure what his relationship with the shop owner was, but it seems like he actively avoided him.

Eventually, Alex caught Washington giving Burr a very meaningful look, a _you've-been-sitting-there-long-enough_ sort of look. Burr tossed his now-cold cup in the trash, gave Washington a more subdued but still angry look of his own, and, without a word, made for the exit.

"Close the door on your way out," Washington said after him.

"Damn, what's that all about?" Alex asked John under his breath. John nudged him.

"Tell you later. I need two green tea lattes, ask Herc to show you how to make them. I'll do the double espresso." And then it was back to business as usual.

Outside of Libertea's main window, underneath the flag sign, Alex caught a glimpse of Burr bumping into someone, except that it looked like he did it on purpose. He grabbed her hand, kissed it, and spun her around. She was gorgeous, which meant he _definitely_ did it on purpose.

Her dark hair was pulled back away from her face, her lips were red and glossy, and she was wearing a light pink coat that was probably not appropriate for the weather. It didn't matter. She glowed.

Even glaring and saying something (Alex only caught the words _disgust me_ through the window, sue him, he was terrible at reading lips) she glowed.

He nudged John and pointed out the window.

"Who is that?"

John followed his finger's trajectory. "Huh. Never seen her before in my life. Doesn't come in here, believe me. I'd know."

"Whoever she is, she just hardcore rejected Burr."

" _Ha_. Good for her."

Alex craned his neck to try and catch another look, but all he saw was the back of her head and two other girls walking with her. One had a yellow bow in her dark hair, and the only thing he saw of the other was a glimpse of her blue skirt before she turned a corner, out of sight.

* * *

 **Next chapter:** **Samuel Seabury's iPad gets a drenching, Burr observes, Lee gets his.**

 **Thanks for reading! Reviews are immensely appreciated if you like and/or want more coffeeshop shenanigans, and you can always find me as fihli on tumblr as well!**

 **-Gab**


	3. Tear This Dude Apart

**SUMMARY: Samuel Seabury reveals the plot to get rid of Libertea for good. Burr's there, for some reason. Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy pay the coffeeshop a visit, and Lee comes back to work.**

* * *

Alex kept an eye out for the three mysterious girls he'd watched Burr interact with, but two whole days went by and he didn't see any of them. Burr was avoiding Libertea as well, which was strange. Alex was sure that he'd whither away and die without a daily Americano.

"Maybe he started going to Starbucks," he commented to John, during the post-noon lull on the third day without Burr or the three girls. John snorted into his drink (caramel coffee with _way_ too much milk).

"Starbucks sucks, Alex, even Burr knows that."

"You're just saying that 'cause you're biased. I used to drink Starbucks all the time, before-"

"Before you stepped foot in here and John motherfucking Laurens made you the best damn drink you've ever put your sweet lips on, right?"

Alex raised both eyebrows. "Sweet lips?"

"The _sweetest_." John winked.

"Burr's got to come in sooner or later," Alex continued, artfully changing the subject. "I want to ask him about those girls he was talking to the other day."

"Oh, that'll go over well. _Hey, Aaron, tell me about those girls that ruthlessly rejected you_ -"

Alex crossed his arms. "Well I'd word it better than that."

 _"Hey, Aaron, tell me about those girls I've been stalking for three days_ -"

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up, John, or else I'm going to go hang out with Laf in the kitchen."

" _Hey Aaron, I want to get rejected, too_ -"

Alex threw the last of the empty cups he'd been stacking at John's head, and made good on his word. Ducking into the kitchen, the sight of Lafayette and Herc, heads bent solemnly over Lafayette's iPad, made him stop in his tracks.

"Uh, guys, what's up?"

"Oh, Alex, come here, come here," Herc said quickly, beckoning him over. "I thought you were Washington. Oh, man, we'd have gotten our asses handed to us."

"Why, 'cause of the iPad?" Alex asked. "I thought Mr. Washington was okay with technology as long as no one's in the store. John's on his phone, like, all the time."

(It was true. Alex didn't know who he was texting at all hours of the day, because the only other people he'd seen John be even mildly nice to were also working in the same place he was. Maybe he wasn't texting. Maybe he was secretly Libertea's Flappy Bird champion.

Alex was one hundred percent sure that John would kill him if he ever heard Alex say that out loud.)

"Nah," Herc said, sliding the iPad across the table, through some flour, despite Lafayette's sharp intake of breath. "Because of what we're watching."

Alex internally cringed. _What could they possibly be watching_ \- "What is it?"

"See for yourself."

Lafayette leaned across the table and tapped the red _play_ icon on the Youtube video. Alex leaned down to watch, but leaned back up almost immediately.

"I recognize that dude."

"Samuel Seabury," Herc said, nodding, as one of their semi-regulars, Seabury, introduced whatever he was talking about. Some realtor's agency or something else Alex didn't think he'd ever be watching a video on. "He works for a real estate agency called _All The King's Men_ , or, as John abbreviates it, _those fuckers_."

"Why do you guys hate these guys so much?"

"Washington," Lafayette explained, pausing the video. "He hates the guy who owns the agency, George King the third."

"They're both named George? That sucks."

"Tell that to Washington," Herc butted in. "They were partners in the real estate game until King's underhanded tactics drove Washington out. He started Libertea, and King's never gotten over the fact that he's actually doing pretty good."

"Pretty good?" Alex asked incredulously. "Have you seen our books? We're doing _way_ better than this George King guy."

"I wouldn't say that." Lafayette tapped the play icon again.

"-just acquired the rights to Philadelphia Bagels and Back Bay Recording Studio," Seabury was saying. Alex liked his pretentious accent even less when he was on video. "They will be up for rent at the end of the month! This has been a message from George Ki-"

Lafayette tapped the _close_ icon with more force than necessary. "You know where Philly Bagels and Back Bay Studio are, right?"

"To our left…" Alex said slowly. "And to our right."

"He's literally flanking us," Herc agreed.

"You don't think he's coming for our building," Alex asked, leaning back against the refrigerator. "Do you? I mean, who does Washington rent from now?"

"New York Congressional Realtors," Lafayette answered.

"They screw him over every once in a while," Herc chimed in, "but not nearly as much as King would. And, you know, they're mortal enemies. To Washington, paying rent to King would be worse than, I don't know…"

"Chopping off his own hand," Lafayette offered.

"Walking on hot coals," Alex said.

"Fucking a horse," Herc said.

Alex's head turned at the same time Lafayette's.

"What?"

" _Quelle_?"

"Nothing." At that very second, saving Herc from what was about to turn into either a deadly serious question-and-answer time or a full-on roast session, John burst through the kitchen door.

"Holy shit, guys, get out here before I slit Seabury's throat and he bleeds out all over the bar, because Washington would make me clean it up and that is _not_ happening today!"

"Seabury's here?" Herc practically dove over the table. "Oh, it's going _down_!"

Lafayette grabbed his iPad, set it gently on top of the fridge, and dashed out the door, Alex on his heels and Herc not far behind him. Seabury was there, at the counter, his arms crossed and a supremely disdainful expression on his face.

He arched an eyebrow. "Did you find my venti macchiato back there?"

"This isn't fucking _Starbucks_!" John lunged forward, teeth bared, and Herc had to grab him around the waist to keep him restrained. Seabury actually took a step back. Behind all of this, Burr slipped into the mostly-empty Libertea, his eyes shifting around like he knew he wasn't supposed to be there.

"Aaron Burr, sir-" Alex tried to peer around Seabury, but he moved to block him.

"My _drink_?"

Alex groaned. "Okay, okay, what do you want? A macchiato?"

"Yes. But I don't want you to make it." Seabury pointed over Alex's head, right at John, still squirming halfheartedly in Herc's grip. "I want him to make it."

"You can go to hell," John spat out.

"I'm making your drink," Alex said, grabbing one of the large paper cups and pouring a measure of milk into the bottom. "I'm making your drink so you can get the hell out of our store. And, pro tip? Go to Starbucks next time."

A slow smirk crept across Seabury's face. "But I need to support my boss's business ventures, you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Herc asked from behind Alex.

"Oh, you haven't heard?" Seabury pulled his own iPad out of his shoulder bag, unlocking it with the loudest noise Alex had ever heard. He turned on the espresso machine just to block out the sound of his typing. "My boss, George King the third, recently acquired the deed for this building-"

"Fuck," Herc whispered.

"And he asked me to draw up a proposal."

"A proposal for what?" Lafayette asked warily.

"What to do when your boss fails to pay rent. Even a day late, and Mr. King will raze this place to the ground and build something a little more… Community friendly." He gave John a pointed glare, and Alex felt his blood begin to boil.

"Heed not the rabble screaming for caffeine," he began, speaking loudly over the whirr of the machine. "They don't have this establishment's best interest at heart."

"Oh my God," Alex heard John mutter around Herc's arm. "Alex, tear this dude apart."

"This establishment brings in no profit, their marketing leads people astray…" Seabury swiped a page on his iPad. "At the first sign of failure, show them no mercy-"

"Alright," Alex said, gritting his teeth and slamming Seabury's drink onto the counter, hard enough to send flecks of coffee spraying all over the wooden surface. "That's _enough_ -"

"Alex." Burr ducked around Seabury. "Let him be."

"You know nothing about what we do here," Alex said, ignoring Burr and pushing the cup closer to Seabury. "You're in here every morning, just like the rest of them, drinking John's coffee and eating all the stuff Laf bakes, and-"

"The _community's interests_ -"

"We're not the flashiest place, but our coffee is damn good, our books are impeccable, and your boss can come down here himself and we'd blow him away-"

" _No profit-_ -"

Alex growled, deep in his throat. "If you repeat yourself again I'm gonna-"

Burr slammed his open palm on the counter. "Alexander, _please_!"

Spinning towards Burr, Alex flung his arms wide. "Burr, quit fucking around, I'm trying to make a point!"

"This entire place-" Seabury began, and Alex's vision went scorching red. He reared back and flung the entire macchiato into Seabury's chest, ducking as it exploded, drenching Seabury, his iPad, and part of Burr's sleeve.

Everything stopped, until John laughed, one rough, surprised cackle that came from the depths of his throat.

"Get out of here, you dick!"

With the reverie broken, Lafayette whooped loudly and Herc roared, slapping Alex on his back. Seabury grabbed an entire dispenser of napkins before wheeling around and making for the door as quickly as he could.

"You'll regret this," he said, before slamming the door after him.

"Yeah, yeah, I can tell you watched _Top Ten Movie Villain Catchphrases_ on YouTube last night," Alex said to the closed door, clenching and unclenching the hand that had thrown the drink. Herc clapped him on the shoulder two more times, and Lafayette and John were still laughing in the background.

Burr raised his eyebrows and Alex slid him some napkins.

"Sorry, you kind of got caught in the splash zone."

Most of the macchiato had rolled off of Burr's coat, anyway, and was on the floor. He dropped a bunch of napkins onto the spill and stepped on them. Alex watched as he swept his foot around, catching all of the droplets.

"That was an idiot's move."

"I can make my own decisions okay, Aaron? And one of them included flinging coffee at an asshole who was insulting my friends and where I work. Okay?"

"I don't think you should take King and his lackeys lightly, that's all."

"Who's side are you on?" John asked, coming up beside Alex, standing close enough that they were pressed together, side by side, John's freckled arm leaning on the counter right beside Alex's. "You're a regular here, Burr, and this jerk wants us shut down. You gotta pick a side."

"I'm not waging war with you against your landlord," Burr said, like it was his final ruling on the subject. Alex picked a blueberry scone out of the display case and slid it towards him. A peace offering.

"If you stand for nothing, Burr, what'll you fall for?"

John bumped him with his elbow.

"Good one."

The bells on the door jangled as Washington pushed his way in, phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder, eyes stormy and distant.

"Yes, I hear you. Yes, I can hear you. No, I do _not_ fucking agree. No, I will not sign anything without you and a lawyer present. I will _not_ be screwed over."

Alex glanced behind him, Lafayette's eyes were wide and Herc looked nervous. Washington stormed into the kitchen without acknowledging any of his employees, and Alex heard his footsteps go up the stairs and the door to his office slam shut.

"I'm guessing he heard about King's takeover," Burr commented, mouth full of blueberry scone.

"Jee, you think?" John rolled his eyes. "This sucks. There's no way we can keep up with King's crazy rent hikes, we sign his contract and we're done."

"Is there any way to get out of signing?" Herc asked.

"Well, his company owns the building, right?" Alex stole the left corner of Burr's scone, and he scowled. "We'd have to go over his head. Buy the building ourselves."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Burr said.

Washington's footsteps sounded on the staircase again, and everyone perked up. John straightened his shoulders, Lafayette re-tied his apron, Burr swept all of his scone crumbs into the trash. Washington exited the kitchen and walked around the counter.

"I assume you heard from our new landlord."

"Seabury may or may not have paid us a visit," John replied. Someone -either Lafayette or Herc- kicked Alex's shin. "Is it true that he wants us to sign a rent agreement?"

"The new rent price is our original price, times two." Washington looked up at the ceiling, at the red brick walls, the huge colonial flag hung across the back wall. The specials board, which John redrew every morning, had the drink of the day -Herc's new oolong blend- as well as a doodle. A broken coffee cup with a speech bubble that said ' _I'm on my coffee break_ '.

Washington took a deep breath. "I have a few ideas. Just sit tight, do your jobs, and don't talk to anyone else about this." He looked pointedly at Burr.

"Yes, sir." John and Lafayette said at the same time.

"And one more thing; has Lee shown his face yet?"

"No," Herc said. "Haven't seen him since, well…"

"That's fair." Washington turned to leave. "Text me if he shows up. He's not coming back to work until I have a talk with him. Have a good night, gentlemen. And…" He looked back over his shoulder. "Thank you all very much. I appreciate everything you do here."

The door closed before Alex realized that he'd just had the happiest moment of his entire life. John nudged him.

"Yo, Ham, you've been standing in the same place for, like, three entire minutes. Are you broken? Need some espresso?"

"Uh…" Alex mentally shook himself. "No. No thanks, John, I'm good. Burr, don't _leave_!"

Burr was halfway into his coat and halfway out the door. He paused. "What do you want, Alexander? Some of us have papers to write, internships to ace, lives to live. Don't you have coffee to burn?"

"That was _one time_ , Burr, and you can't leave because you gotta tell me about those girls you were talking to the other day. There was one with curly hair and a pink coat, and there were two others with her..." Alex trailed off as someone pushed past Burr in the doorway, hiking the strap of her leather purse higher onto her shoulder. It was her, the girl who rejected Burr, and her lips were just as glossy and her hair was just as curly as Alex remembered.

Burr raised an eyebrow and moved back into Libertea, taking his seat at the far end of the bar once again. John slid him another scone, but Alex wasn't paying attention to that. Another girl had entered right behind the first, her sleek, dark hair pulled half-back, and her white blouse tucked into her high-rise jeans.

She nudged the first girl, the pink coat. "See, this place isn't so bad."

"It smells like burnt coffee in here, Eliza," Pink Coat said, shrugging off said pink coat to reveal a maroon patterned dress. "I miss Starbucks."

"Starbucks sucks," John said loudly from behind the counter. "And Alex burnt the coffee, not me. What can I get you, ladies?"

Pink Coat and the other girl, _Eliza_ -the one with the dark eyes framed by dark lashes and the light, silvery voice that made everything sound as poetic as an Adele song- approached the counter. Pink Coat looked John straight in the face.

"The only reason I'm here right now is that there's a rumor going around that the Starbucks right down the block, the one on the corner, has rats. I am not drinking rat poop coffee." She glared at John, and Alex could feel the withering heat of it from where he was standing. "You don't serve rat poop coffee, do you, _John_?"

He took a step back. "How do you know my name?"

She arched a brow. "You're wearing a nametag."

"Damn it." John took a step back and tugged Alex in front of him. "You take them, Alex, it's too early for this."

"It's two in the afternoon," Pink Coat said, her sarcasm singing Alex's eyebrows, but John had ducked down behind the espresso machine (he always went there when he didn't want to deal with customers; he claimed to be _fixing_ it but Alex knew he had a bag of chocolate covered coffee beans and his phone back there).

Alex slid a cup of black coffee across the counter as he looked at her, taking in her dark eyes, her squared shoulders, the slight tilt of her chin.

"Hi."

She narrowed her eyes. He tried again.

"You look like you've never been satisfied."

She took a step back. " _Excuse me_?"

Alex felt his face start to heat up.

 _Hey, Alex, it's your brain. What the hell kind of thing to say was that? Are you a creep? I didn't think you were a creep, man, but apparently-_

"By a cup of coffee," he amended, trying to seem like, yeah, that's what he was going for in the first place. The girl didn't look amused. "Here at Libertea, we grind our beans-"

 _Grind our beans? Really?_

"-fresh every morning-"

"Listen up, No-Nametag," she said. "Starbucks is, and will always be, the chain that has my heart. I'm here for your caffeine, nothing more."

"You want my caffeine and you haven't even taken me out for dinner first?" Alex asked. He heard John laughing from behind the espresso machine, but ignored it.

"If I pay, you have to give me whatever I want." She raised an eyebrow.

"We're not that kind of coffeeshop. And frankly, I'm offended that you think we'd put out like that."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pink Coat's friend, Eliza, glance up from her phone and over at him, if only for a second. It was a heartbeat's worth of time, but it was all the time in the world.

Pink Coat hiked up her purse on her shoulder and reached out her hand.

"My name's Angelica Schuyler."

Alex took her hand and shook it, taken aback at the sudden change of heart. Maybe she dealt in sarcasm and innuendos instead of actual human conversation. Well, he could relate.

"Alex Hamilton."

She fixed him with a look, a soul-searching, mind-reading look.

"I'm about to change your life."

Taking a few steps back and hooking her arm through the other girl's, she tugged her up to the counter and deposited her right in front of Alex. She was wearing a tiny pearl on a gold chain, and a subtle shimmer on her eyelids. It was captivating.

She held out her hand the same way Angelica had done. "Elizabeth Schuyler. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Schuyler?"

Angelica took her place beside Eliza. "My sister."

"Thank you," Eliza said, gesturing at the expanse of Libertea, "for not being the only coffeeshop on the block."

"If it took rat poop at Starbucks for us to meet, I'd say it was worth it."

Angelica hit Alex with another one of her looks, this one more dangerous, more intense. It was a _watch your step_ look, a _don't fuck with my family_ look. "I'll leave you to it."

She took her cup of coffee, probably lukewarm by now, and retreated to the big table in the back corner of Libertea's customer area. She set up her area, coffee beside her, a stack of books at her elbow, an immaculate Macbook with a decal of a pink lipstick kiss beside the bright apple.

Alex turned his attention back to Eliza. "And what can I get you?"

"Green tea," she said, "just a little bit of sugar."

"Coming right up." He busied himself making the drink, stepping twice on John's foot, the only part of his coworker that he could see. Burr was still there, too, sitting in his seat and observing. Quietly. Like a creep.

"And… Green tea with sugar," he said, sliding her drink across the counter. "But just a little bit. Just a little sweet."

Eliza smiled and the entire shop lit up.

"Thanks, Alex."

"Any time, Eliza."

"Uh, could I get some-"

"Not now, Burr."

Eliza's phone buzzed, and she took it out of her pocket and unlocked it, putting it up to her ear. "Margarita Schuyler, where are you? Ang gave you the address-"

"No, we're not at Starbucks, the _health violation-_ -"

"Yes, it's the one with the colonial flag sign. No, Peggy, it's not _podunk_ , it's actually pretty cute-" She smiled at Alex. "Yes. They have mocha flavor shots. Sure, sure, okay, bye!"

Another girl burst into Libertea, a little out of breath, and Alex recognized the yellow ribbon in her hair. She had red lipstick on and came up behind Eliza, grabbing her by the hips.

"I made it! Hey, can I get a big something with four mocha shots?"

This was to Alex, and he raised his eyebrows. "What sort of something?"

"I don't know, whatever you have."

"Hey, John, I need your help," Alex said, throwing a pen in the general vicinity of the espresso machine. "I need you to make a mystery drink. Only rule, four mocha flavor shots. Come on, you live for this shit."

Eliza paid for all three of her sisters' drinks, and both her and Peggy went to join Angelica at the big table. Eliza also had a laptop, and Peggy hadn't stopped texting since she came in the door. John handed Alex an iced drink. He hadn't even seen him come out from behind the espresso machine.

"Here's your mocha shitstorm," he said. "Oh, damn, that's a great name. I need to run that by Washington. It could save our asses with this whole King business." Burr snorted into his drink.

"I'm sure people are going to be lining up around the corner to buy John Laurens' _mocha shitstorm_."

Alex delivered Peggy's drink -it had a, frankly, adorable puppy doodled on the side- while Burr and John argued the merits of John's new drink.

And that's when, with a crash of bells, Alex watched Charles Lee storm back into Libertea. He looked furious, red-faced and clammy, but then again, Alex couldn't remember a time when he hadn't looked like that. He stalked around the counter, grabbing an apron and tying it around his waist.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Herc asked, leaning through the window between the kitchen and the front counter. "You're not supposed to work until you talk with Washington."

"Washington's lost without me," Lee spat. "As are all of you. Get back to work, and maybe I can -singlehandedly- save this place from being destroyed by King. Someone has to do it, and it sure as hell won't be Washington. He couldn't run a business even if he tried."

"I'm going to kill him," Alex muttered. He went to take a step, but John caught him by the arm.

"Don't touch him," he warned. "Washington doesn't know you very well, yet, if you screw up you'll get fired."

Alex scowled. "Someone needs to teach him a lesson."

"Then I'll do it."

John lunged past Alex before he could protest, pushed his way past Herc, and planted himself firmly right in front of Lee. He ripped his hairnet off and threw it to the ground.

"Laurens, quit being a jackass and get back to-"

John reared back and Alex watched in slow motion as his freckled fist made immediate, crunching contact with the side of Lee's nose. He went down, John shook out his hand, and pulled another hairnet out of his back pocket.

Alex was vaguely aware of the Schuylers in the background, their faces a varying tapestry of shock, and Burr behind him, wound up and tense.

John looked down at the curled up form of Lee, and shrugged one shoulder.

"I'm satisfied."

Lafayette poked his head and right arm out of the kitchen door, phone in hand. "Washington just texted me. He's here."

Libertea was silent, except for Lee's moaning and the background music for _Neko Atsume_ coming from Peggy's phone. Burr raised an eyebrow.

"This should be fun."

* * *

 **Next chapter:** **There are consequences for punching a manager. One of those consequences might be burgers.**

 **Thanks for reading! Reviews are immensely appreciated if you like and/or want more coffeeshop shenanigans, and you can always find me as fihli on tumblr as well!**

 **-Gab**


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